When You Come Back to Me Again
by sablecain
Summary: atf/au- a misunderstanding about trust, a kidnapping and an IA investigation lead team 7 on a rather rough weekend
1. Chapter 1

_**When You Come Back To Me Again**_

Disclaimer: The characters of the Mag7 do not belong to me, I'm just borrowing them for the fun of writing:) No profit involved or sought for here.

I own no rights to the song lyrics used in this story...  
When You Come Back to Me Again by Garth Brooks/Jenny Yates or Desperado by ... was just borrowing them cause I like 'em.

Comments: Though not a sequel there are references to in this story to 'Your True Family' by Ruby. You don't have to read her story to understand this one but I recommend it anyway cause it's a great one. Thank you Ruby for letting me use it for Ezra's history and refer to your characters too:)  
(Your True Family is archived at the ALL Ezra archive)

Huge Thank you to NT for reading through this and helping me fix it up for reposting!

* * *

  
_There's a ship_  
_out on the ocean_  
_at the mercy of the sea_  
_It's been tossed about lost and broken_  
_wandering aimlessly_  
_And God, somehow you know that ship is me_  
_There's a lighthouse in a harbor shining faithfully_  
_Pouring its light out across the water_  
_For this sinking soul to see_  
_That someone out there still believes in me_

Josiah Sanchez nodded politely and shook hands with the last few patrons exiting the decorated interior of Inez's Saloon. He felt like a preacher after the Sunday morning service, but couldn't help smiling anyway. The fundraiser had been a huge success.

Josiah watched the last couple make their way through the light sprinkle of rain to their car, and then turned and, with a glance up at the heavens, thanked the powers that be for tapping folks' hearts and wallets. Then, closing the front door, he flicked the sign to closed and went to help the others with clean up.

Buck and JD were helping Inez and her two waitresses clean off the tables, though Buck appeared to be doing more flirting than cleaning. Chris and Vin moved about the room, sweeping the cluttered floor, while in the back corner at Team Seven's usual table, Nathan and Ezra sat counting the evening's donations.

"How'd we do?" Josiah asked,moving across the room. A radio played in the background and, though it wasn't nearly as loud as the juke box had been, Josiah had to raise his voice slightly to be heard.

"I'd say, our local charity will be very pleased with this little soirée's profits," Ezra drawled loosening his tie and leaning back in his chair. His eyes skimmed over the table, lingering on the neatly stacked piles of cash.

"Sure will." Nathan nodded. "There's just over $10,000 here. Not bad for a little thing we threw together, huh?"

"How much?" JD stopped beside the table, his voice drawing the attention of the others in the room. Chris, Vin and Buck joined the group just as Nathan repeated the amount.

"Hot Damn." Buck laughed. "All that in cash?"

"Almost," Nathan stated as he started organizing the money to put into the zippered bank pouch that Ezra had provided for the event.

"There are a few checks in the mix, but," Jackson waved a stack of bills. "Mostly green."

"Good job, guys." Chris leaned on the handle of the broom he'd been using. "Refuge ought to be able to do quite a lot with all of that," hesaid, referring to the local shelter and safe house for battered women and children.

"Anyone would be able to find ample use for this much cash, gentlemen," Ezra purred, running his finger over a pile of bills before handing them to Nathan. His ruby ring flashed in the light.

"Ezra, this money is for charity." Nathan's tone reprimanded lightly.

"I'm well aware of the fact,Mr. Jackson," Ezra replied. "I was merely stating the fact that any one of us, if not all of us, could find valid uses for the if we divided it up, it would make a nice bonus,so to speak. I was not suggesting we actually do so," he insisted.

"Good," Chris said. " 'cause it ain't ours. Let's get this place cleaned up like we promised Inez we would." No one missed the command in his tone.

"I'll vacuum." Vin reached for the apparatus.

"Need to put the chairs up first," Josiah noted.

"Wait guys!" JD ran to the bar and reached back towards the radio, turning the volume up a couple of notches.

"What are you doing, kid?" Buck asked frowning.

"I love this song."

The older men groaned, fearing the worst. "Hey, trust me," JD insisted, increasing the volume one more time.

The first few strains of song hit the airwaves and Josiah grinned, nodding his head with approval. "The Eagles," he said softly.

_"Desperado, Why don't you come to your senses?_  
_You've been out riding fences for so long now_  
_Oh, you're a hard one_  
_I know that you got your reasons_  
_These things that are pleasin' you_  
_Can hurt you somehow..."_

Inez smiled and shook here head, pausing as she wiped down the bar. She watched the seven men as they worked in silence, setting chairs leg up on the tables. She wondered if they even realized that they were all mouthing the words of the song as they worked. Giggling softly, she enjoyed the scene.

Individually, they certainly were an odd assortment, she admitted. All of them somehow managed to fall into the category of loner. Most of them by their own choices, except JD maybe. Life had turned the tables on the kid, leaving him alone when his mother died.

_"And freedom, oh freedom well, that's just some people talkin'_  
_Your prison is walking through this world all alone."_

The words captured Inez's heart and whipped at her emotions. No, the truth was, life had railed against all of the seven at some point. Alone was just what they'd grown used to, until now. As a team, as a family, Inez knew these men were a force. There was no other word that fit, a force. They had one of the best records in the ATF, after all. But there was something else, too. Inez wasn't sure if they themselves could see it, but watching them work together now, even on such a menial task, she could. It was more than friendship or family really, a brotherhood.

Inez shook her head again and went back to her clean up. Maybe she was just tired, or maybe the song was making her overly sentimental, but she suddenly felt the intense desire and painful longing to belong to something as powerful and complete as what these men were together.

_"It might be rainin' but there's a rainbow above you_  
_you better let someone love you, before it's too late."_

'Damn,' Inez thought. She sure hoped these guys knew what they had. Wiping a tear away quickly, she muttered to herself in Spanish as she hit the power button and sent the room into complete silence.

No one spoke for awhile. Each agent lost in his own thoughts as he went about cleaning up. Even Ezra lent a hand as he wiped off and upended chairs. The silence of the moment was finally broken when Chris started chuckling and shaking his head.

"What's so funny,Cowboy?" Vin asked as everybody turned and looked at their leader questioningly.

Chris laughed again, "Do you know how many times I've been called on the carpet by the brass upstairs? And almost every time, it's the same thing. 'Your team is nothing but a bunch of wild desperadoes with no regard or respect for proper procedure'," he mimicked a voice the rest were not familiar with.

Buck laughed and clapped JD on the back. "Well, if the shoe fits, I say we wear it."

Chris' expression changed instantly to concern. "Hey now, I didn't mean that as an okay to ignore procedure, Buck," but his protest was drowned out when with a wink at the others asVin turned on the vacuum cleaner.

A half hour later, the clean up was finished and the group was once again gathered around 'their' table. Nathan held up the pouch of money. "Someone needs to keep this overnight and take it in to the bank in the morning," he stated, looking at Chris.

"I drive past that particular financial establishment everyday," Ezra mentioned. "I can take care of it on my way to work tomorrow."

"Josiah can do it." Chris took the bank bag and tossed it to the older man.

Ezra felt his face flush and his pulse quicken instantly. He questioned,"Mr. Larabee? Are you insinuating that you can not trust me?"

The room fell silent as the other men shifted uncomfortably, wishing they could avoid being witnesses to the oncoming confrontation. Ezra looked from friend to friend, but no one would look directly at him.

"None of you trust me?" His voice had fallen to a whisper.

"Ezra," Josiah reached out, but the undercover agent took a step backwards. 'After all this time,' he thought.

"I'm sure Chris has a good reason," Josiah tried again.

"Then what the hell is it?" The Southerner's voice stayed level, but the hurt there was obvious. The silence roared in Ezra's ears. He closed his eyes, not wanting to see Chris searching for words. "I see then," he whispered and headed for the door.

"Ezra wait!" Chris commanded, but Ezra merely held up a hand in a half wave, half surrendering motion and walked out into the damp night.

"What was that all about?" Buck asked finally. "You can't seriously believe Ezra would take that cash do you?"

"No," Chris spat defensively. He hadn't wanted to bring this up. He ran a hand roughly through his blond hair. "I got a letter today from the bureau's I.A. office."

"Internal affairs?" JD's voice rose with shock.

"What about?" Vin asked softly, glancing at the door.

"More bull shit from Atlanta," Chris admitted, letting them know it concerned Ezra.

"It's been two years. For crying out loud, the man didn't do anything already!" Buck shouted angrily.

"Well, someone's stirring up the old rumor pot again and Ezra's their target."

"What does that have to do with you trusting him with the cash, Chris?" Nathan asked.

"It doesn't.I do, trust him, I mean." Chris sighed heavily. "I.A's watching him like a hawk and you want me to let him carry a huge wad of cash home with him? They'd be all over that."

"Could have explained," Vin stated.

"I didn't know how," Chris declared. "Damn it,he thinks this crap is all behind him."

The sudden sound of tires squealing, brakes screeching and horns blaring had them all running for the door. Outside, the driver of a Ford Taurus was hanging half out of his window waving his fist in the air. Another horn at the corner caught their attention in time to catch a glimpse of Ezra's jaguar skidding sharply around the turn and through the red light.

* * *

Ezra let the saloon door slam closed behind him. He didn't care anymore about making a scene. Itdidn't matter. The night's light rain swept over him and he shivered with chills and anger. Why didn't they trust him? Oh yeah, he'd screwed up at the very beginning, once, but after all this time, he'd thought they were past that. Frowning, he ran a shaking hand over his face and headed for the car.

Inwardly, he fumed. "How could you have been so stupid?" he asked himself as he slid into the driver's seat. Leaning forward, he rested his head on the steering wheel. Emotions ran through him faster than he could process each one. Hurt, anger, sadness, all of them hitting like physical blows.

Ezra knew he wasn't the easiest man to get to know. Hell, he did that on purpose, but he thought that these men had figured that out. Thought they had come to the point that they could see through the walls of indifference. He sat back and wiped his eyes, disgusted with the tears. Somehow he'd thought this time was different. He'd grown to believe these men were his friends. He'd worked with them everyday, entrusted his life to them and eventually his defenses had relaxed enough that he considered them friends, family.

"Family, that's a good one,Standish," Ezra said out loud as he started the car. He didn't bother to look for oncoming cars when he pulled out of the parking lot. "When are you going to learn, Ezra?" He continued his tirade, struggling to keep the car on the slick road as he ran the red light. "You've never had a family and you're never going to, so let it go already." His voice was harsh and his eyes unfocused as memories flashed through his mind. Years of moving from relative to relative, from boarding school to boarding school. Years of feeling like an outsider and holding back from his coworkers knowing that getting involved only brought eventual abandonment, rejection and worse yet betrayal.

The way he was forced from the FBI ran through his mind. The rumors, the accusations, the scorn stayed with him long after the investigation had ended. He remembered feeling so lost. No one at work would talk to him, even though the investigation had found nothing and anonymous threats slipped into his inter office mail almost daily. That was when Chris Larabee had stepped into his life.

"How very melodramatic," Ezra muttered to himself. The jag swerved wildly off the shoulder of the highway, but he held on and maintained control. "At least you can control something." He cursed, remembering the fear of transferring to Denver and the initial stupidity of his first case with Team Seven. He'd walked out on them momentarily, before getting a grip on the situation and returning. He thought he was gone when Larabee walked up to him and got in his face. "Don't you ever run out on me again." The words startled him back then and simultaneously knocked down the top bricks of his defensive walls. No one had ever given him a second chance before. For the first time in his life,he had begun to feel like he belonged somewhere. He'd let himself enjoy the feeling too. God, he actually thought they believed in him.

"How could you be so stupid?" he asked,smacking the steering wheel with his palm. Focusing on the road,he knew shouldn't be driving, but he certainly didn't want to go home right now. Home, to the apartment he'd finally settled into. Home, where he'd unpacked and actually decorated. It was the first time he could remember that he'd cared what pictures hung on the walls. Stopping for a red light, Ezra watched the reflection of a neon sign blink on the hood of his car. Making up his mind, he hit the blinker switch and turned sharply into the parking lot.

The first drink fueled his anger. The second drink fueled his hurt. The third drink fueled his loneliness. The fourth drink fueled his despair. Ezra was no longer keeping track of the number of glasses on the table. Satisfied to wallow in the misery of self pity. His vision blurred and he blinked trying in vain to clear it. Nothing mattered anymore. His friends did not trust him. Maybe he should just walk away, but as soon as the thought entered his sodden mind, Larabee's words jumped at him. "Don't you ever run out on me again." Ezra frowned. "Damn him," he muttered out loud. How was he supposed to work with men that didn't trust him.

Groaning at the wave of dizziness passing over him, Ezra squeezed his eyes closed and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was a bad idea, he was going to need a ride home and he couldn't even remember if he had any cash left on him for a taxi. Besides, he didn't exactly know where he was. Looking around the dingy room's interior, Ezra shivered unconsciously. What had he been thinking? Sluggishly, Ezra flipped open his wallet and grimaced. There was enough to cover the drinks, but that left him high and dry, ironically, on a ride home. He picked up the keys to his Jag and rolled them over in his hand, trying to flip them across the back of his fingers. They landed with a sharp clatter on the sticky table. He frowned again.

Tossing his money on the table, Ezra staggered rather awkwardly to his feet. He stood still a moment, collecting himself. He might be drunk, but he'd be damned if he couldn't walk out of a bar on his own power without embarrassing himself by stumbling about like a lout. He scooped up his keys and, ignoring the looks from the few rough looking patrons, walked out into the night.

Outside, the rain was coming down in torrents. A tiny, ragged awning provided just enough cover to keep Ezra from getting complete soaked in the downpour. It took him a moment to focus on the name of the bar, the road signs and the landmarks around him, but Ezra finally figured out where he was. Swallowing his pride, he fished his cellphone from his jacket pocket and dialed the number from memory.

" 'ello?" Vin answered quickly.

"Mr. Tanner?" Ezra paused trying to focus on what he needed.

"Ezra is that you?" Vin sounded relieved for some reason.

"My apologies for disturbing you, but I'm finding myself in need of a favor at this time." Ezra's accent slurred slightly despite his efforts to speak clearly.

"You need a ride, Ez?"

Ezra cursed under his breath. "I'm afraid so," he admitted simply.

"Not a problem. Where are you?"

Ezra had just finished giving the address when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, startling him.

"Hey you!" The hand tightened and Ezra felt himself being turned around roughly until he was facing three very large and angry looking men. The one touching him smiled. "Well, if ain't, Mr. Simpson." The fist caught him in the jaw and propelled him backwards into the rain. He sprawled onto the gravel, the phone skittering from his hand.

"What the?" Ezra shook his head trying to chase away the pain and confusion.

"Don't you remember me, 'Mr. Simpson'?" The man leered sarcastically as he bent over him and hauled him up by his lapels. "You're the fucking under cover man who sent my ass to the pen."

"I think you're mistaken." Ezra searched his befuddled brain for the memory of the man now shoving him back towards his two friends.

"No, I've been watching you in there, drinking for over an hour now. Think back." The burly man nodded and Ezra's arms were grabbed by the others and wrenched behind him. He yelped as his shoulder popped out of joint. "Think Atlanta." The man in front of him commanded, then drove his fist hard into Ezra's gut.

Ezra coughed and gasped for air. His chin was grabbed roughly and his head yanked harshly up so that he was looking into the other man's face.

"McDowell," he whispered the name as the memory of a long ago drug bust flittered across his brain.

"Now at least I have the pleasure of knowing you remembered me," McDowell hissed as he pulled his fist back and delivered another painful blow, "before I kill you."

* * *

"Damn!" Vin swerved to stay on the road, squinting through the pouring rain and trying to dial his cell phone at the same time. It was the fifth time he'd tried to call Ezra back in the short time it had taken him to throw on a pair of jeans, run to the jeep and take off to the bar Ezra had mentioned.

His first reaction to hearing Ezra's voice on the end of the line was pure relief. At least Ezra was still talking to them. Then he'd realized Ezra was drunk and part of him wanted to laugh. It must have been a bit humbling for Ezra to make the call, as upset as he was. Fear had taken over when he'd heard the other voice cut across the airwaves and then couldn't get a response from Standish. In the pit of his stomach, Vin knew something was very wrong. He didn't know whether to be relieved or concerned that the bar Ezra had holed up in was so close to Purgatory. 'Certainly isn't up to Ez's normal standards,' he thought as he pulled into the parking lot. Hopping out into the rain, Vin saw Ezra's jag immediately and headed towards, it hoping to find the undercover agent passed out inside. The car was empty though, so Vin headed for the bar's entrance.

Halfway to the door, his foot kicked something and he looked down. His breath caught as he groaned. Reaching down, he picked up the cell phone, recognizing it immediately as Ezra's. He quickly scanned the ground and parking lot for any other sign of the Southerner, but the rain was coming down harder now, obscuring his vision. Shivering, Vin ducked quickly under the ragged canopy and entered the bar.

There were no patrons left in the establishment and Vin headed straight for the bartender.

"We're closing up," the man told him gruffly.

Vin glanced at the clock behind the wall and nodded. "Just need some help finding a friend."

"Can't help you, no one's here." The big man turned his attention back to wiping down the sticky counter.

"He was here a bit ago. Called me for a ride. Brown hair, medium build, a little shorter than me, had an accent." Vin described Ezra quickly. "Drinking heavily."

The bartender sighed as he ran a hand over his balding head, weary from a long night of work. "He was here, but he left," he said simply, remembering the man in question.

"Did you see anyone else with him?" Vin persisted.

"No. He was alone. Came in alone, drank alone and left alone," the bartender snapped.

Vin held up a hand to signal he was backing off. "Thanks anyway."

"Yeah, night." The bartender dismissed him and turned back to his clean up.

"Damn it Ezra, where are you?" Vin asked, stepping back outside. He stood a moment under the awning to think. He knew Ezra had been here. The bar man had confirmed that much, but where would he go? Who belonged to the other voice in the background of Ezra's phone call? Vin looked down at the cell phone in his hand and turned it over, wishing it could answer his questions. His eyes caught on something just under the edge of the protective canopy and he knelt quickly. Vin reached forward to touch the dark stain, fearing the worst and praying he was wrong. Blood, he knew it before he even brought his hand closer to his face to confirm it. Somehow, without a doubt, he knew it was Ezra's blood. Standing, he searched the ground for any other signs of blood. Near the brick of the building, under the tiny overhang, he found another splotch. His fear was growing. Whoever had Standish, had dragged or carried him to this spot and leaned or slammed him against the wall. Vin stepped away from the building and scrutinized the gravel. Even through the rain, he could tell that a vehicle had been parked there recently. Probably a truck by the depth of the indentations where the tires would have been. A truck. The picture of Ezra tossed into the back of pickup like a spare bag of feed flashed through his mind and Vin shook his head as he jogged to his jeep. Once inside and out of the rain he pulled out his own cell phone.

* * *

"Larabee," Chris growled after the first ring.

"It's Vin."

"What's wrong?" Chris squinted, his sleep hazed eyes straining to read the clock. 2:30 a. m. Nobody called this late without an emergency.

"Ezra's missing," Vin stated simply.

Chris was struggling to sit up. "What do you mean missing? We know he's pissed. Ain't going to make himself easy to find right now, Vin," Chris managed to say.

"He called me from a bar near my place."

"Your place?" Chris interrupted. Ezra didn't frequent that area of the city unless forced to, and never on his own.

"Yeah, he was drunk and asking for a ride. Heard a voice in the background with him, called him Mr. Simpson and suddenly he was gone."

"What?"

"He was gone. Phone went dead. I got here and found his phone and car, but no Ezra. I found blood, Chris."

"Blood?" Chris rubbed a hand over his face, forcing himself to wake up. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying Ezra's missing and he didn't disappear willingly."

"Shit."

"Yeah." Vin peered through the fogged windows of the jeep. "There's an all night diner across the street, want to meet there?"

"Sounds good. I'll call the others," Chris answered as he grabbed for a pair of jeans, and listened as Vin gave him directions.

A half hour later, Chris was the last one to arrive at the diner. The other five members of his team were already seated at a dingy looking table, sipping coffee and listening to Vin.

"What are we going to do, Chris?" JD asked, handed Chris a mug of hot coffee.

Chris looked at Vin. "What are you thinking?"

Vin shook his head and ran his fingers through his damp hair. "There's not much to go on at all. The bar's closed now and the bartender was not very cooperative the first time I talked to him."

"We'll talk to him again then," Buck said.

"I think he was taken in a pick up truck, but I can't be positive." Vin sighed heavily wishing he had more to go on.

"Vin and I will start at the bar as soon as it opens," Chris began, as his mind switched into task mode. "Josiah and Nathan, I want you back at the office in case there's some kind of ransom or demand. Start running through files and checking on recent paroles and releases. Anyone who got out recently that might have a vendetta against Ezra."

"That ought take until the next millennia." JD smiled faintly trying to relieve the tension he felt.

Chris almost returned the smile. "JD, you and Buck check out his apartment. Just in case he managed to finagle his way out of whatever he's gotten into. Then get back to the office to help Josiah and Nate."

"How badly hurt do you think he is?" Nathan asked Vin.

"I have no idea. Reckon it could be as simple as a bloody nose." Vin tried to sound positive.

There was silence around the table for a moment as they contemplated the many possibilities.

"Sure wish he wasn't mad at us," JD said softly.

Buck looked at his roommate. "Hell, Ez will calm down. If he's in trouble he'll know we're coming for him."

"Yeah,but he was so upset." JD looked from Buck to the others. "He thinks we don't trust him already. What if he thinks we won't try looking for him? What if he gives up?"

Josiah cleared his throat. "JD, Ezra had sense enough even when he was mad and drunk to call Vin for a ride. Deep inside, he knows we're going to be there for him. He just hasn't figured out how to accept all of it yet."

"I hope so," JD said quietly.

"All right." Chris stood and drained the last of his coffee. "Let's get out there and see what we can find. Before sun up we can cruise the area looking for any sign of him, and startasking if anyone has seen him."

"Sounds good." Buck clapped a hand on JD's back. "Let's get some caffeine to go kid."

"Watch your backs," Chris warned lightly. "And keep in contact." When he stepped outside the diner, he was glad that the rain had finally stopped. "God, I hope you're right, Josiah," hewhispered under his breath.

"Ready?" Vin asked coming up beside him. "Yeah, let's do this."

TBC...


	2. Chapter 2

_On a prayer__  
__In a song__  
__I hear your voice and it keeps me hanging on__  
__Ahhh, raining down against the wind__  
__I'm reaching out 'til we reach the circle's end__  
__When you come back to me again_

* * *

Ezra moaned as he struggled to regain some semblance of consciousness. His head felt like it had been used for a punching bag. He turned it slowly, the pain searing through him again. He gasped and choked as he inhaled a mouthful of water. Blinking,he strained in the darkness to see where he was. His arms were cuffed behind his back and,as he tried to roll, his shoulder and side were ground mercilessly into the ridged floor beneath him. Rain stung his bruised face and ran into his eyes. A light flashed in regular intervals above him.

'A truck.'

Groaning again, Ezra let his throbbing head fall back onto the bed of the truck with a splash. The truck hit a bump and Ezra was jolted, bouncing again on the metal floor. He cried out as new pains knifed through his ribs, shoulder and head.

"This is not good," he whispered. How in the world had he allowed this to happen? 'Cause you went off on a self pity trip, got drunk and let your damn defenses down, idiot,' he ranted silently. He never expected McDowell, but if he'd been paying attention in the bar he might have recognized the man.

'What does McDowell want with me anyway?' Ezra winced as the truck hit another bump. "Don't go out of your way to avoid those," he muttered, his thoughts going back to McDowell.

Jason "Mac" McDowell, a petty drug dealer that Ezra had put away toward the end of his 'illustrious' career in Atlanta. Running the time frame through his muddled thoughts, Ezra frowned. He would have thought McDowell should still be in prison. Even with good behavior, he wouldn't have been released this early.

The truck stopped just after the rain slowed and finally ceased. Ezra's relief was short lived though as the doors of the cab slammed shut. He heard the tail gate creak as it was opened. "You awake, Standish?" McDowell asked roughly grabbing him by his ankles. Before Ezra could answer, McDowell yanked hard, dragging him viciously across the truck bed, sending him swiftly back into unconsciousness.

* * *

Josiah glanced at the digital clock mounted on the dashboard and sighed heavily. 4 am. He and Nathan had been driving around the city at a snail's pace, checking every parking lot, every alleyway, every place they could think of where one might be able to stash a pickup truck And they had found nothing. Nathan shifted uncomfortably beside him and Josiah looked his way a moment. The former EMT was focused on the search as he peered out the passenger side window, but Josiah could see the stifled yawns.

Facing the road again, Josiah scanned an alley on the left. This felt hopeless. He thought again in prayer,'Right now we need you. A sign from you, a direction to take, anything, God.' He stopped as a street light turned red. Discouragement settled heavily on the anthropologist's shoulders and he yawned tiredly. 'Comfort Ezra, Lord. Let our brother know we're out here searching for him.'

"Josiah?" Nathan's voice broke into his silent prayer. "The light changed," he explained when Josiah looked at him.

Josiah mumbled an apology and stepped on the accelerator. The sky was beginning to take on that lighter tinge of steely gray now that morning was coming. "Help us find him," Josiah prayed again in a breathy whisper. "Please, help us find him."

* * *

Vin watched as Chris focused on the road. He took in the clenched jaw and the angry set of the other man's shoulders. "You okay?" heasked,breaking the silence that had ruled the cab of Chris' truck since they had started their search. Their vain search. Vin cursed himself over and over for not being able to find more clues as to where Ezra had disappeared. What good was driving around the pre-dawn streets of Denver when they didn't even know what they were really looking for? Granted,there was a chance Ezra had just wandered off in a drunken haze, but no... Vin knew Ezra. Drunk or no, it took a lot for Ezra to lose that kind of control, especially after the undercover agent had already called for a ride. Besides, there was that voice Vin had heard in the background. Calling Ezra 'Simpson.'

"No," Chris finally answered Vin's question. "I can't believe I let this happen."

Vin looked at him. "What do you mean 'You' let this happen? This ain't your fault."

Chris glanced at him. "I let him go off on his own, all upset with us."

"Yeah, and whatever happened to him could have happened at his own apartment for all we know."

Chris half sighed, half growled. He knew Vin was right but that didn't take away the guilt he was feeling. He should have told Ezra about the IA investigation. Should have explained better why he didn't want Ezra taking care of the cash. He knew Ezra's insecurities, they all did. Why hadn't he  
thought about how it would sound? He was just trying to protect Ezra and instead hurt him worse.

The silence in the truck was broken only by the soft tones of the radio. Chris smiled bitterly and exchanged a look with Vin as they both recognized the song playing. He'd barely listened earlier when the DJ announced that it was 'Tribute to the Eagles' weekend. Now as the lonely strains of "Desperado" floated around them, Chris wondered if Josiah would claim it as fate.

* * *

Consciousness returned brutally as Ezra was thrown into a corner. He landed with a hard thud and tried in vain to bite back a groan. "Get comfortable,Standish. You'll be here awhile." A foot prodded his leg and he heard a door close and lock.

Forcing his eyes open, he was startled by the pitch darkness around him. He squinted, unable to make out even the outline of a door or a window. Carefully, he stretched his legs, testing to see if he had room. Pain radiated through him and he tried to push it away, his need to find out something about his surroundings motivating him. Shifting back into the corner, he struggled to sit up, but his bound arms and injured shoulder hampered his efforts. With a defeated sigh he allowed himself to flop back onto the carpeted floor. A tremor swept through him, his body slowly shutting down on him again. In the darkness,he focused on his ragged breathing. It grew louder in his ears, accompanied by the racing beat of his heart. For a moment, that was all there was. The waves of dizziness and nausea added to the odd arrangement until he swore he heard actual music.

Lifting his head a moment, he frowned in concentration. He did hear music, music and voices. He leaned his head to the side unconsciously as if the movement would allow him to hear better. McDowell's voice was muffled, but identifiable; Ezra didn't recognize the other voice. The music captured his attention then and he squeezed his eyes closed. 'Josiah would love this irony,' he thought as his mind filled in the words that he couldn't hear.

_'Don't your feet get cold in the wintertime?__The sky won't snow and the sun won't shine.__It's hard to tell the nighttime __from the day.__You're losin' all your highs and lows.__Ain't it funny how the feeling goes away?'_

He smiled wryly. "Kind of wish all feeling would go away about now," he muttered as he shifted and gasped at the stabbing in his side. The darkness was closing in on him again and this time he wanted to give in to it. He wanted to just drift away and forget the physical pains he was suffering.

Chris' voice growled in his memory. "Don't you ever run out on me again." The statement slapped him as he pictured his boss and friend. "Friend," Ezra whispered the word under his breath. He wanted to cling to that concept,but the scene from the saloon played through his mind again. Chris didn't trust him.

He shivered violently. His damp clothes clung to him,creating a cold that seeped into his abused bones. For a minute he thought he was back in the bed of the pickup, the rain and wind whipping around him, but he blinked and the room was back, dark and empty. His thoughts returned to Chris and the others. 'Chris will think I ran out,' he realized. 'No, I called Vin.' The memory of asking the sharpshooter for a ride came to Ezra and somehow comforted him as he lost the battle to stay awake. They were looking for him.

* * *

Chris and Vin wearily made their way into Team Seven's office. Josiah and Nathan were already seated at their desks, each had a pile of file folders stacked beside them as they sorted through Ezra's most recent cases. Buck and JD emerged from the break room each carrying two cups of coffee.

"Hey, you find anything?" Buck asked setting one of his mugs down in front of Nathan.

Chris shook his head. "No. Bar doesn't open until 4 p.m.. We'll help you go through files until then."

"I think you two should crash for a couple hours," Nathan stated. "We all should."

"Nathan, there's no way I'm going home with Ezra out there somewhere." Chris' voice rose slightly.

Nathan held up a hand in mock surrender, signaling for Chris to relax. "I meant, you go crash in your office. Vin, take the break room couch. We'll spell you in a couple of hours, but it ain't going to do us or Ezra any good if we all drop from exhaustion before we find him. Something happens, we'll call you."

Chris stared at the medic a minute then nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "JD and Buck first," he commanded. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep right now anyway and JD looked like he was almost asleep already. "JD, you can use my office."

Neither Buck nor JD offered any argument as they abandoned their coffee. Vin picked up JD's cup and took a sip, grimacing at the sweetness level.

"Finding anything here? Anyone call?" he asked, looking at Josiah.

"No, brother, we've come up empty so far." Josiah saw the frustration flash in Chris' darkened eyes. "But we aren't giving up either," he reassured.

Chris nodded, realizing the comment was meant for him.

"We'll get him back, Chris," Vin said quietly, taking another sip of coffee.

"Damn right, we will," Chris said confidently, then grabbed a stack of files and moved to Buck's desk. "We better," he whispered to himself as he opened the first file, "we better."

TBC...


	3. Chapter 3

_There's a moment__  
__We all come to__  
__In our own time and our own space__  
__Where all that we've done__  
__We can undo__  
__If our heart's in the right place_

_

* * *

  
_

Chris stirred restlessly, then opened his eyes as the leather couch rustled beneath him. He blinked sleepily and tried to remember why he was waking up in his office.

Ezra.

He sat up quickly, then paused to let the dizziness that accompanied the action to dissipate. He shook his head to chase away the fog and finger combed his hair. Squinting a couple of times, his eyes finally focused properly and he glanced at the digital clock on his desk. 9 a.m.

"Damn it, Nathan!" Chris roared as he slammed suddenly into the bullpen style office the others shared. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You needed the sleep," Nathan said unapologetically. He'd known Chris would be angry for letting him sleep an extra two hours,but he also knew his boss would push himself over the brink if someone didn't step in to slow him down.

Chris sighed heavily and leaned against Ezra's deserted desk. "Find anything yet?" His voice was lower and calmer now. It hadn't slipped his notice that Vin, Buck, JD and Josiah had kept their attention suspiciously focused on the work on their desks as he lashed out at Nathan.

"Nothing yet, Cowboy," Vin emphasized the 'yet'.

"Damn." Chris reached for a file and distractedly skimmed over the first page. After a moment he tossed the file onto Ezra's desk. "Where are you, Ezra?" he asked out loud.

"That's what I would like to know."

Chris' head jerked up at the strange voice. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the man standing just inside the office door. Medium built with dark auburn hair cut to regulation. The expensive black suit looked uncomfortable and out of place on the man. His appearance screamed internal affairs as much as his defensive posture. Absently, Chris wondered how it was that Ezra could pull off the same immaculate look and not come across as anything he didn't want to.

"Isaac Nelson." The agent broke the cold silence and stepped forward to flash his badge. "Internal affairs." Nelson's brown eyes scanned the office. "I'm here to question Agent Standish."

"About what?" Chris asked simply, his voice clipped and harsh.

"Pending investigation," Nelson responded easily. "Am I to assume Agent Standish is not available?"

"Assume what you want, you will anyway," Buck snorted.

Chris shot Buck a look to silence him. "Ezra's out right now," headded.

"Do you have any idea of his whereabouts?" Nelson shifted his weight and waited.

"No."

"Is he a flight risk?"

"Excuse me?" Chris stood up, his anger rising quickly.

"You were informed that Agent Standish was being investigated by our office. Now that I'm here to question him, he's not here. Is Standish a flight risk?" Nelson's voice was hard and threatening.

"Ezra doesn't even know that he's being investigated," JD commented from his desk.

Nelson heard him and raised an eyebrow of skepticism.

"Are there formal charges?" Vin asked quietly. His sudden presence next to Nelson unnerved the man visibly.

"I'm not at liberty to divulge that information," Nelson answered quickly.

"What is he being accused of this time?" The mockery in Buck's tone was obvious.

Nelson glanced at Wilmington, immediately running his file through his memory. Known ladies' man, tendency to disregard regulations, flares of temper usually aimed at the deserving, and extremely defensive of his team members, particularly Dunne. "I'm not..."

"At liberty to say. Yeah, we get the idea," Buck finished for him.

Nelson stood silently, trying his best to not look intimidated by the agents around him. 'Just the type of team that would take care of their own,' hethought, somewhat enviously. Sighing heavily, Nelson relaxed his posture and met Larabee's cold glare. "You have 24 hours until the charges are formal. I'd suggest you find Standish before then."

"Can you at least give us a little information here?" Nathan asked.

Nelson looked at Nathan, "You've heard of Agent Morse?"

"Damnation," Josiah cursed under his breath, signaling to Nelson that yes, they knew who he was referring to.

"Morse claims he's come into possession of a handful of tapes. Phone taps of Standish setting up a number of payoffs."

"Ezra never did any of that," JD told the older man defensively.

"You've heard these tapes?" Chris asked.

Nelson shook his head. "Not yet. Morse is flying in this afternoon. The committee meets tomorrow morning. Once we listen to the tapes, we'll be by to pick up Standish." Nelson shrugged. "I came by today to give him fair warning, try to hear his side of the tale." He glanced one last time at the six men. "Make sure he's here or things will go worse for him."

"That some kind of threat?" Buck took a step towards the IA man, but Chris held up a hand for him to back off.

"Just a fact. None of us want to go chasing after Standish ala 'The Fugitive'." Nelson nodded once to Chris and turned to leave, ignoring Buck's angry response.

"Yeah, that's cause you suits know you'd never catch him."

"Something's wrong here,Chris," Vin said, poking his head out into the hall to confirm Nelson was definitely gone. "You get news of the IA investigation, Ezra disappears, and now IA's snooping around ready to press formal charges."

"Yeah, a bit convenient that Ezra's not around to defend himself," Josiah pointed out.

"What do you mean, Josiah?" JD asked, looking tired and confused.

"Think about it, Kid," Buck answered him. "With Ezra missing, there's no one to stand up in his defense, just Morse's say so. To them it will look like Ezra ran."

"And running means guilty," Nathan finished.

"But Ezra didn't run," JD pointed out.

"Exactly," Buck, Josiah and Nathan said together.

JD's eyes widened with sudden realization. "You mean Ezra's kidnapping and the investigation are connected."

Vin couldn't help but smile. "Look's like it, JD. Think of what we know. Ezra never took any bribes in Atlanta so those phone taps have to be fake."

"We know that for sure?" Nathan asked hesitantly.

Chris answered simply, "We know."

Nathan accepted his answer with a nod, not wanting to dwell on the doubts. He wanted to trust Ezra.

"Secondly," Josiah took over Vin's explanation. "We know that Ezra disappeared with obvious force right after IA opens an investigation, and thirdly, Morse is involved."

JD pushed his bangs back out of his face. "Who's Morse again?"

"Morse was Ezra's partner after Palamon and the initial investigation in Atlanta. The man didn't appreciate getting saddled with a 'dirty' partner," Chris explained.

"Made Ezra's life hell," Vin added.

"But why would he bring it all up now?" JD hated to sound stupid but asking out loud helped him organize his thoughts.

"That's a good question," Buck told him. "Hard to know why Morse would do anything."

Gradually the six men returned to work, searching files for any information that might lead them to Ezra. Chris continued to sit on the corner of Ezra's desk,watching JD. He could see Dunne's mind working and waited, knowing JD either had more to ask or say.

"We know that Morse is faking the tapes somehow, right?" JD asked softly.

"Yeah," Buck answered, not looking up from his work.

"Then is there a chance he's also behind Ezra's disappearance? He's got to have a plan of some sort, especially if there's even a chance the committee might figure out the tapes are fake."

It felt like an eternity before Chris answered him. "Start searching for anything with Morse involved." He motioned towards JD's computer. "See if you can find Morse and Ezra's case files, too. Maybe there's something there."

"Even if I have to hack into them?"

"Do what ever you need to."

JD grinned and immediately focused on his keyboard.

"You think the kid's on to something?" Vin asked Chris quietly.

"Yeah. It's a start at least." Chris shrugged. "More than we've found so far anyway."

He knew they needed to check every angle. They owed Ezra at least that much. When Internal Affairs had started investigating Standish in Atlanta, no one had stood behind him. Chris knew he couldn't change what had happened to Ezra in the FBI, but he'd be damned if he let the past repeat itself. Team Seven was going to do everything possible to prove the charges against one of their own were false and, whether Ezra realized it or not, Chris wasn't going to let him stand alone this time around.

* * *

"Rise and shine, Standish." Ezra tried to focus on the dark shadow, ominously back lit in the open doorway, but was only able to force one eye open. A foot nudged him lightly. "Wake up."

Defensively,Ezra pressed himself against the wall behind him, but the voice moved closer.

"Come on, help me out here, man. McDowell's gonna be back any minute. If you want a chance to take a piss, now's the time." A firm hand gripped Ezra's elbow and pulled him easily into a sitting position. The young man squatted in front of him, ignoring the gasp of pain. "Geez, you're a mess."

"Thank you," Ezra grunted.

"Sure, now listen. I'm gonna untie you and take you to the head. You so much as twitch the wrong way and I'll break an arm, you got that?"

"Most assuredly."

"What?"

"Yes."

"Good, now come on," his captor said, hauling him roughly to very unsteady feet.

Less than five minutes later, Ezra was again alone in the darkness, his dignity bruised, but not completely destroyed. 'Junior' or whatever the kid's name was, had left him untied, but he realized rapidly that it didn't make a difference. Between the dislocated shoulder and the severe cramping from hours in their bound position, neither arm was working properly.

At least he could sit up now. He rested his head on the wall behind him, thankful he was no longer face down in the carpet. He could feel the rug's pattern still imprinted on his cheek. "Must go well with the contusions," he muttered. A wave of dizziness swept over him, accompanied by a chill and, for a moment, Ezra feared he'd end up on the carpet anyway,but he managed to stay upright. His clothing was dry now, but he found it impossible to get warm.

Ezra's mind drifted aimlessly, despite his effort to concentrate. He thought of the team and wondered if they really were searching for him. Then, he thought of McDowell and wondered what the thug really wanted from him. If revenge was his goal, Ezra figured he would have been killed already. His mind turned back to the scene at the saloon, Chris insisting that Josiah take the money. A feeling of hopelessness swept over him. They might be searching for him,but Ezra could still see the uncomfortable expression of each man. They didn't trust him.

'No one said that.' A small voice inside argued. Ezra frowned and tried to rub at his aching temple, but his arm protested the movement with such vengeance he abandoned the idea.

'What do you mean no one said that?' hequestioned silently. 'They all just stood there while Chris insisted Josiah take the money.'

'You didn't give them or Chris time to explain before you ran off in a huff either.'

"Oh fine, so now it's my fault," Ezra responded angrily then realized suddenly that he's spoken out loud. "Great," he snorted. "I've been reduced to arguing with myself."

His mind flashed to a memory of his Aunt Dorothy. "It's not talking to yourself that means your crazy, Ezra doll, it's when you start answering that you have problems."

"Oh, Aunt Dor, I've got problems," Ezra whispered, his accent thickening. He felt himself sliding down the wall and into unconsciousness, his last thought of a short, overweight southern aunt with braided gray hair and pink cheeks who insisted on always calling him 'Ezra doll' for the year he had lived with her.

* * *

Josiah sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. He opened his bloodshot eyes and caught Nathan watching him intently across their desks.

"You okay?"

Josiah nodded. "I'm fine, just frustrated and weary."

"Now, that's an understatement if I ever heard one," Buck cut in, tossing the latest file haphazardly onto his desk. "I feel like a runner stuck on a freakin treadmill, going absolutely nowhere."

Chris looked up from where he'd been working at Ezra's desk. "It's all we got, Buck." His voice betrayed his own frustrations.

"I know." Buck ran a hand across his face, trying to chase away the sleepiness he felt. "How's it coming, JD?"

JD had not looked up from the computer since Chris had told him to check into Morse. When he didn't respond to Buck, the ladies'man just chuckled. "JD?" he tried again to no avail. Finally, he picked up a koosh ball and tossed it lightly at his roommate. A direct hit to the head.

"Huh? Buck what the ..." JD looked up, disoriented by the interruption.

"Easy, Kid," Vin interrupted his outburst. "We're just checking your progress. You've been quiet an awful long time."

JD blinked and looked around, realizing belatedly that they had been trying to get his attention. He blushed sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Interesting reading?" Josiah asked, unfolding his large frame from his chair and reaching upwards in a slow stretch.

"Yeah, actually." JD's head bobbed. "You can tell Morse hated Ezra. He had something bad to say about him in all his reports, dumb stuff really."

"Anything that can help us?" Chris asked.

JD shook his head. "Not really, but I made a list of the arrests I've gotten to so far if anyone wants to start working on that." He handed a paper to Chris who passed it on to Nathan.

"Search for recent releases, paroles, etc." Chris told the former medic. "JD,why don't you take a short break and run downstairs to get us something to eat."

"Sure, what does everybody want?" It took only a minute to gather a lunch order from all the men, then JD scooted down the hall.

"You send him for a particular reason?" Buck asked curiously.

"Just making sure he took a break before he keeled over." Chris grinned.

"I could use a break," Buck pointed out.

"Yeah." Chris nodded slowly. "But JD won't spend an hour flirting with the ladies in the snack bar."

Buck smiled ruefully. "Maybe so, but I could have wrangled us some extra brownies."

Chris shook his head and laughed lightly as he turned back to the file he'd been skimming. The room fell silent again save for the shuffling of papers and tapping of keyboards.

"This is interesting." Vin's voice startled everyone.

"What?" Chris slid Ezra's chair around the desks so he could see what Vin was talking about.

"Ezra's got a file on Dick Palamon."

"What's it say?" Nathan asked as he, Buck and Josiah moved closer.

"Look's like a brief on his career, starting from the year he entered the academy."

"What a waste." Buck's bitterness towards the FBI agent was obvious.

"What are you guys looking at?" JD asked. He entered the office with a tray stacked high with deli style sandwiches and small bags of potato chips.

"File of Ezra's on Palamon." Buck turned and took the tray from JD. "Hey where'd you get the brownies?"

JD blushed. "Girls sent them up." He wasn't sure what Josiah was laughing at, but shrugged it off and joined the others around Vin's desk.

"Palamon's first partner was Brian Schoolcraft," Vin read.

"Wasn't he the supervising agent Ezra had so much trouble with right before he came here?" JD asked.

"One of them," Josiah answered.

"Schoolcraft and Palamon went through the bureau together," Chris pointed out.

"Yeah, but Schoolcraft moved through the ranks faster. Look here." Nathan pointed over Vin's shoulder to a note written to the side of the page. "He was promoted and Palamon was partnered with Ezra."

"Think that's significant or just coincidence?" Buck asked.

Nathan shrugged. "Might explain Schoolcraft's grudge against Ezra."

"JD, get on the computer again. This time, focus on anything concerning Schoolcraft," Chris directed.

"Sure." JD hurried to his desk, pausing only a second to grab his sandwich and chips from Buck's desk.

Buck followed and started tossing the wrapped sandwiches to the right owners. "If Schoolcraft was in charge during Ezra's last days, then he would have supervised Morse, too."

"Good point." Josiah caught his lunch easily. "Might still be."

"I'll look that up, too." JD's voice was muffled behind his computer.

Chris slapped Vin lightly on the shoulder. "Good work, cowboy."

Vin shook his head. "Just reading the file. Hope it leads to Ezra."

"Well we already know that Palamon started all this crap," Chris pointed out.

"What I can't get is why IA won't let go. We proved Palamon set Ezra up. I mean, we got audio of him shooting Ez in the back. What more do they want?" JD asked. "It's like Ezra's wearing a target or something."

Vin smiled, but knew JD was right. He also knew that Ezra tended to feel like a target most times. The original rumors set in motion by his old partner in Atlanta seemed to haunt the undercover agent. Finding out it was Palamon who betrayed him had almost destroyed Ezra's already fragile ability to trust. Vin firmly believed it was a good part of the reason Standish was always so quick to assume the team would lose faith in him. He expected it because it was all he'd known. It was up to them to change the pattern and prove to Ezra that this time around it was safe to trust. This time he had a family he could rely on.

TBC...


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay in posting. Got wrapped up in RL and getting my kids back in school this week!

* * *

_On a prayer__  
__In a song__  
__I hear your voice and it keeps me hanging on__  
__Ahh, raining down against the wind__  
__I'm reaching out 'til__  
__We reach the circle's end__  
__When you come back to me again_

Ezra's chest burned. His body shivered and ached as he rocked with violent fits of coughing. McDowell had returned, angry over "Junior's" show of compassion and the trip to the bathroom, and had taken it out on Ezra.

After the first blow, Ezra really couldn't remember anything further about the incident except "Junior's" voice reminding McDowell that they needed him alive, for now.

He'd lost track of time in the constant darkness, unsure of how long or how many times even, he had slipped in and out of consciousness. The floor heaved beneath him and for a moment he swore he'd go rolling into the opposite wall. The fact that he stayed stationary was the only thing telling him that he was the one spinning, not the room. Constant nausea felt like a never-ending motion sickness. At least,so far he'd managed to keep from throwing up,but he figured that was due more to his body's lack of strength then his own self-control.

His head throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he struggled to breathe. He tried a slow, deep breath, but was rewarded with a sharp, vice-like pain and a renewed bout of coughing. "Oh God, please," he pleaded, gasping again for air.

It took a moment, but finally he lay exhausted, his breathing settled back into shallow gasps. He hovered on the edge, between the darkness where he could feel everything and the darkness that would make everything go away. It would be so easy to just let go, give up the fight and surrender to the soothing peace of nothing.

What was stopping him after all? His friends? Were they his friends or were they like almost everybody else in his life the he'd ever let close? He was supposed to be the conman after all, the drifter and the cheat. Why was it that he always seemed to screw up and let someone in when he knew it always led to the same thing, betrayal and pain. He was a sad excuse for an uncaring bastard, no matter how hard he tried. Larabee and his team had gotten past his walls and closer to the true Ezra Standish then anyone before them and now...now what?

Was he just supposed to let go and trust that there was an explanation for their apparent lack of trust? Maybe his mother was right. Maybe the only one in he world he could depend on was himself. For a moment he was suddenly back in the saloon, cleaning chairs and listening to the soft strains of a familiar song, the words jumbled but clear. "Desperado come to your senses...let somebody love you before it's too late."

Was it really just a matter of him letting the others in? Ezra frowned as he began to cough again, his throat burning and dry from thirst. Maybe it was just too late already. The darkness was calling.

"Ezra, wait!" Chris' command resounded so loudly through Ezra's memory that he actually opened his eyes, his heart racing with the hope that Larabee was there with him. But he was alone, in the dark and, as much as he unexpectedly felt the need to not let Chris down, Ezra was afraid he that he couldn't hold on much longer.

* * *

"Okay, Chris, I've got three names for you." Nathan entered Larabee's office without knocking.

Chris looked up from his computer screen and listened as Jackson detailed the three recent parolees to him. He rubbed a hand roughly over his face as he accepted the printouts from Nathan.

"Our best candidate is this one here." Nathan tapped the top picture.

Chris read the name. Jason McDowell, it didn't sound familiar or particularly threatening. "What makes him stand out?" he asked.

"Paroled over two years before he should have been eligible." Nathan pointed to the dates and sentencing information.

Chris frowned, his suspicions growing even as he asked,"Wonder why?"

"Don't know for sure, but look who vouched for him at the hearing."

"Morse?" Chris' suddenly wide eyes met Nathan's.

"Yup. I have JD looking for any Denver connections."

Chris could almost hear the pieces of the puzzle clicking together. As Nathan went back out into the main office, he stared at the black and white photo of McDowell. The man was huge, twice the size of Ezra at least. He shook the thought from his head and turned back to his computer.

So, Agent Morse had testified on behalf of McDowell, getting the man paroled early, but who had moved the man's eligibility up? Staring at the file on screen, Chris focused on a name. Schoolcraft.

"Damn it," hecursed softly. Somehow, he immediately knew that Schoolcraft was behind the scenes of this whole fiasco and Chris had the sinking feeling that there would be no evidence trailing back to the man. Brian Schoolcraft was smart enough to cover his tracks and protect his career above all else. That didn't stop him, however, from going out of his way to try and destroy Ezra's.

Chris remembered vividly that Schoolcraft had been one of the strongest forces behind the original investigation in Atlanta. The large man had a short temper and Ezra had perfected the ability to set him off. More than once, Schoolcraft had publicly ranted that Standish's career was finished. Needless to say, the man didn't appreciate the irony of Team Seven's"magnificent" reputation or Ezra's role in it.

"You busy?" Vin's soft voice interrupted Larabee's thoughts as the sharpshooter eased into the office.

"What did you find out?" Chris had sent Vin and Buck back to the bar where Ezra had disappeared.

"Nothing new." Vin sighed. "Same bartender. Still insisted he couldn't help."

"Think he's telling the truth?" Chris asked.

"Yeah." Vin stepped over to the window and stared out into the dismal afternoon. "Said there was a handful of guys, but couldn't give any details except they were big. Place is so dark inside it's a miracle he even remembered Ezra." Vin ran a hand through his damp hair and then shoved his hands into his jean pockets.

"Ezra's hard to miss," Chris joked lightly.

Vin responded with a small laugh.

"It's raining again," Chris said absently, momentarily hypnotized by the sight and sound of raindrops on glass. His mind toyed briefly with a picture of Ezra in the bed of a pickup.

"Nathan pulled this." Chris chased the image away before it had fully formed and Vin turned his attention to the printout Chris held. He moved to a chair across from the desk and took the picture, examining it closely.

"McDowell? Think he's our man?" Vin asked.

Chris nodded slowly. "Morse helped with his parole, I think. I wouldn't be surprised if Schoolcraft's behind the eligibility."

Vin didn't comment, but Chris saw the frown.

"What the hell?" Buck's indignant shout brought both men instantly to their feet. A look of confusion exchanged between friends was the only pause before Chris headed into the main office, knowing Vin was right behind him.

Chris wasn't sure what had brought about Buck's outburst,but the sight of a half a dozen FBI agents and one angry looking Isaac Nelson was not what he had expected.

JD, Buck, Nathan and Josiah were all standing,their stances defensive in the tension filled room.

"What's this about?" Chris asked evenly, but there was cold anger rising quickly in his eyes.

"We're here to pick up Agent Standish." Nelson's voice was harsh, his words short and clipped.

"You need seven men for that?" Vin asked, his tone low and threatening.

"If there's a chance of resistance, I'm always prepared," The IA man responded.

"Is this an investigation or an arrest?" Josiah asked, watching the FBI agents carefully.

"Besides the initial IA investigation, Agent Standish is the lead suspect in an assault charge."

"Assault on who?" Buck's voice was only slightly lower than a shout.

"Agent Morse was attacked while trying to catch a cab from the airport this afternoon," Nelson explained angrily.

"And you think Ezra had something to do with that?" Chris asked sharply.

"Him or you," Nelson threw back.

Chris felt Vin's iron grip on his arm holding him back as he tried to advance on the IA man. It calmed him, instantly reminding him of the six armed agents backing up Nelson.

Nelson grinned smugly as if Chris' small advance had proved his point. "The tapes that Morse had incriminating your agent were taken in the attack."

"That's convenient," JD muttered sarcastically.

"That's exactly what I was thinking, Mr. Dunne."

"I don't like your insinuations,Mr. Nelson," Chris growled.

"Well, I'm not here to please you, Larabee." Nelson met the ATF team leader's glare without flinching. "I know the rep of this team. You stick together and personally, I don't think it's beyond you to do whatever it takes to protect one of your own."

Nathan stepped forward, his posture stiff with anger. "Now you listen, Nelson. We might stick together,but we're not a bunch of vigilantes. We follow the law."

"I'm sure that claim could be challenged with a thorough review of this team's case files. Face it,gentlemen, your team is not known for conventional methods of operations. Why else would a rogue like Standish fit in so damn well?" The smaller man's eyes flashed as he spoke. "Save yourselves time and the hassle of a long drawn out Internal affairs review. Standish is going down and you can either turn him over to me now or dig your heels in and watch while I tear you all down with him."

Chris didn't respond immediately, instead stared hard at Nelson until his burning urge to hit the man had been reinedin. Finally, he shrugged and held his arms out at his sides, offering himself as a target. "Take your best shot."

"Where's Ezra Standish?" Nelson asked, his face growing red with anger at Larabee's mocking attitude.

"I don't know," Chris answered honestly, unable to keep the challenging smirk off his face.

"I could arrest your entire team for aiding and abetting," Nelson tried to threaten.

"And we'd all be out by nightfall," Josiah reminded him. "We don't know where Ezra is."

"Mr. Jackson?" Nelson looked at Nathan, searching for the weak link.

Nathan shook his head. "Ezra disappeared last night. We have no idea where he is."

"Convenient." Nelson looked at Buck who shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Mr. Tanner?"

Vin merely stared through the man.

"What about you, Mr. Dunne?" Nelson stepped toward the youngest. "Are you ready to go to jail to protect someone like Standish?"

"You don't get it do you?" JD asked incredulously.

Nelson shook his head. "Don't avoid the question, son. Do you want to go to jail? You know what happens to former federal agents in prison?"

Buck stepped forward at Nelson's implied threat, but one of the FBI agents blocked him.

"Don't threaten me," JD snapped angrily, stepping up to meet Nelson's challenge.

Nelson's agents had each moved into place, effectively muting any interference from the others.

"Why not,Mr. Dunne? My threats scare you?"

"Hell no!" Both men were yelling now. Nelson was slightly taller than JD but the ATF agent held his ground. "You don't scare me and your stupid threats don't scare me either!"

"You won't like prison, kid. You're too cute for your own good." Nelson sneered.

JD never flinched. "I can watch my own back." His voice lowered in a frightening copy of Larabee's, causing more than one grin to appear around the room.

"Don't doubt that I'll make good on my threat." Shouts had fallen to barely heard whispers.

"I have no doubts," JD answered.

"I will send you to prison."

"So you said." JD was livid. He knew Nelson had singled him out because he was the youngest. What did this man think? He'd just roll over on Ezra to save his own hide? Even if he knew where his friend was, without question he'd never tell this character. "You still don't get it, Nelson." Though he was conscious that the others were still there, JD saw only the angry man in front of him. Ezra was a friend, a brother and this stranger dared to walk into his family and question their loyalty?

"Is he really worth it?" Nelson took another step closer, his voice dropping so low JD almost couldn't hear him. "You'd throw away everything for him?"

JD shook his head as he stepped close enough that they were nose to nose, then leaned his mouth in towards Nelson's ear, his own voice a mere breath. "I'd die for him."

The IA agent jumped backwards as if JD had physically slapped him. His mouth open in shock, brow furrowed with confusion.

"And," JD continued, his voice starting at a whisper and increasing in volume as he spoke. "I'd do the same for any other member of this team so BACK THE HELL OFF!"

Vin was in motion, daring the FBI thug watching him to even try to stop him, but the agent just followed his movement closely. JD felt a hand on the back of his neck, gripping lightly and pulling him to back to the side. "Easy, Kid," Vin soothed, not releasing him. "I think you're done." He looked evenly at Nelson, challenging him.

Nelson nodded, still stunned and signaled his agents to follow him. He paused at the outer door and looked back at the stone-faced group, his eyes stopping on JD. "I'll be back with warrants."

Once Nelson was gone five pair of eyes turned to JD.

"What the hell did you say to him, Kid?" Buck asked. "You'd a thought you tongued the man's ear the way he jumped away from you."

"Nothing. He just pissed me off." JD ran a hand through his hair, pushing his dark bangs out of his face.

"You okay?" Vin asked. He still had a grip on Dunne's neck.

JD nodded. "Until he comes back to arrest me, yeah I'm fine."

"He's not arresting anyone." Chris scowled.

"What do you think about this attack on Morse?" Nathan asked.

"Sounds like the perfect plan to get Ezra in deeper and not have to hand over evidence of his accusations," Josiah answered.

"Sounds demented," Buck added.

"Think he actually hired someone to grab Ezra and beat himself up?" Nathan ran a hand over his face. It had been a long night and day already and he hoped they weren't just grasping at straws.

"Oh!" JD jumped suddenly and hurried to his desk. "Sorry." He grinned at the startled expressions. "I forgot, right before Nelson showed up I found some information on that McDowell guy." He picked up a paper from the printer. "Jason McDowell, he had a cousin. Um...Kevin McDowell, lives here in Denver. I ran the name. No adult record but a sealed juvie file. Got an address."

He handed the printout to Chris who merely glanced at it before motioning to the door. "Josiah, call Travis for a warrant, then we ride."

TBC...


	5. Chapter 5

_And Again I see my yesterdays in front of me__  
__Unfolding like a mystery__  
__You're changing all that is and used to be_

Forty-five minutes after securing a search warrant, Chris stood rigidly watching the flashing lights of the ambulance as it carried Ezra to the hospital.

The raid had been surprisingly easy. Jason McDowell had attempted to flee,but ran into a brick wall named Josiah. Kevin McDowell had stood, hands in he air, blubbering and pleading for them not to shoot him. It was the younger McDowell that led them to the closet sized room where Ezra had been held.

The relief of finding Ezra was immediately tempered with the worry over his condition. Chris' anger flared again, remembering the sight of Ezra slumped over, unconscious, gasping for breath and shivering uncontrollably in the darkness. Nathan hadn't been able to get any response from him and,though Jackson tried to be reassuring, Chris and the others could see the worry in the former EMT's expression.

"You okay,Cowboy?" Vin asked, watching the fading lights of the ambulance.

Chris shrugged, collecting himself before he responded. "I want some answers," he admitted.

"Then let's go get them."

* * *

The small interrogation room was stuffy and warm, but Chris was oblivious to anything but the young man sitting across the table from him.

Jason McDowell wasn't talking, but Kevin McDowell was having no qualms about cooperating. His cousin has threatened him but now, sitting with Larabee and the other FBI guy, Kevin didn't care a wit about Jason. Running a shaking hand through his hair,he glanced at the mirror, knowing someone was behind it watching him, then momentarily met Larabee's glare.

Swallowing hard, Kevin looked down at the table, then started to talk. "Mac showed up at my house a week ago saying he needed help with a job. I had no idea he was in this deep, honest."

"But you helped him anyway, after you found out what was going down?" Chris asked quietly.

Kevin nodded. The man terrified him. He wished he'd yell or something, because the calm act was scaring him to death. "He was on the phone a lot. Said we needed to follow that Standish guy. I didn't know he was a Fed 'til after we grabbed him." He looked up, willing both men to believe him, then continued. "The plan was to grab him at his apartment, but last night he was drinking and Mac decided it'd be best to grab him when he was pretty much defenseless."

"Why did you kidnap Agent Standish?" Isaac Nelson asked. He'd shown up at Team Seven's office with a warrant to arrest Dunne and Jackson,only to find the place deserted. Then he got the call that Larabee's team were bringing in the McDowells and that they'd found their missing team member beaten into unconsciousness. Nelson was furious, not that Larabee had been correct, but that it looked like he had been played for a fool by his own agency. He wanted answers almost as much as Larabee and his men did.

"Mac said it was all part of the plan. They needed to make it look like the guy had skipped town or something," Kevin answered.

"Who are 'they'?" Nelson asked.

"Uh, I only talked to the guy once, when he called to set up the mugging. His name was something Morse."

"The mugging?" Chris leaned forward.

Kevin gulped and nodded. "Yeah, he wanted us to mug him, 'make it look real' he said."

"What did you steal?" Chris asked with a carefully controlled voice.

"Nothing. He said just to make it look like we were after something and he'd take care of the rest."

"Did he mention any tapes?" Nelson asked, ignoring the scowl from Chris.

Kevin's eyes widened, "Yeah," he nodded. "That's what we were suppose to be after. Said to say 'where are the tapes' a few times in case there were witnesses or something."

"Where are these tapes?" Chris asked.

"Oh, there weren't really any. That's why he set up the whole mugging, just to make it look like there were."

Chris sighed heavily and leaned back in the small metal chair. He felt Nelson glance at him.

"I'll be right back," Nelson told McDowell. "I have some further questions for you." He lightly tapped Chris' shoulder and pointed to the door. In the hallway Vin joined them, having been watching from the observation room.

"Why don't you get out of here and go check on your man," Nelson insisted softly.

"You got this under control?" Chris asked.

"I do now." Nelson met his gaze. "I apologize for the misunderstandings. I let past judgments cloud my perspective," he admitted. "I played right into Morse's plan."

"You didn't know." Chris didn't know why he was offering a defense to the man before him.

"No, but you did and I should have been at least open minded enough to actually listen."

"As long as you take care of it now," Vin said.

"I will." Nelson nodded emphatically. "We're bringing Morse in. I'll keep you updated."

"Thank you," Chris said as he and Vin turned to go.

"Oh and can you do something for me?" Nelson asked.

Chris frowned. "What's that?"

"Tell Agent Dunne that I get it now."

Chris exchanged a confused look with Vin but nodded. "We'll tell him."

Chris and Vin quietly entered the small waiting room, already crowded with their team members. Josiah stood gazing out the window. Nathan was flipping through an old magazine while Buck slouched in a chair next to him, occasionally pointing out something that caught his attention. JD, stretched out across two chairs, looked like he'd fallen asleep.

"Any news?" Vin asked.

Nathan smiled wearily. "They're settling him into a private room now. He's still unconscious. They're calling it a semi-coma, erring on the side of caution. He's responding to some stimuli though." He took a deep breath. "He's a mess though. Got a couple of broken ribs, a concussion and lots of bruises. His shoulder's a bit messed up but not enough that it will need surgery. Doctor said something about not being fully dislocated, just strained this time around."

"What else?" Chris could tell there was more.

"They're concerned about pneumonia. He's got fluid in his lungs, not a lot but he's running a good fever and having trouble breathing." Nathan rubbed his eyes. "I have no idea how he ended up with fluid in his lungs though."

"The rain," Vin replied. "The cousin confirmed they tossed him in the back of the pickup to transport him."

"How?" Buck started to ask.

"It was coming down hard,Buck," Vin reminded. "His hands were cuffed behind him so he had no way to get out of it. If he turned his head down he would have stuck it in a pool of water."

"Damn." Buck closed his eyes as a shiver swept through him.

"They gonna let us in to see him?" Chris asked, looking at Nathan again.

"Yeah, a few at a time, once he's settled."

* * *

Ezra shivered and pulled away from the sharp pain poking at him in the darkness. He was tired of the dark. He was tired of being cold, but most of all, he was tired of being alone, much too tired to fight the memories that flooded his mind like an old home movie.

Jumbled scenes that flickered in and out of focus with no pattern or sensible time line. The past and present mixing together in a painful montage of hurt and comfort, betrayal and trust. He watched the display with confusion, willing it to disappear but resigned to just watching and letting the emotion roll over him one after another.

He watched himself, a small child clinging to his mother with tearful pleas and felt a wave of shame at her bittersweet smile as she calmly reminded him not to cry because appearances were everything. The memory changed quickly and Ezra saw himself reluctantly shaking hands with Chris, the first time they met. He could recall the inner turmoil and fear at that moment, but by then he'd learned his mother's lesson well. There was no emotion on his face as Chris gripped his outstretched hand. Appearances were everything.

Ezra groaned as reality crashed back to him with an intolerable pain in his chest. For a second he thought he heard someone speaking to him, but he didn't recognize the voice. Then he was back to his memories.

His childhood again. Ezra cringed, witnessing as one in a long line of his stepfathers pinned him angrily against the wall. The remembered words resounding perfectly in his fevered mind. "I've had enough!" the man shouted. Ezra could feel the heated breath on his face. "You're out of here! I should have shipped you out the minute you stepped through the front door,but I gave you a chance, kid. One chance and you blew it." With an emphatic slam the man spun and stomped out of the room, leaving Ezra slumped against the wall for support and fighting to keep any of his emotions from showing. He'd left that night off to the first boarding school. First of many.

Suddenly he was pinned roughly against the wall again but this time he was facing Chris' anger. He heard the others cleaning up the scene behind Larabee; he felt the dull ache in his jaw where fist and face had connected. "Don't you ever run out on me again," the blond man had snarled before releasing him. Ezra felt the stunning realization dawn behind his stoic mask; Chris had given him a second chance.

The mental movie continued on in the same pattern, numbing Ezra with its truths. For every hurt, he could recall in vivid detail there was a more recent memory to counteract it. Sometimes it was as simple as being included on a weekend fishing trip, overcoming the suppressed terror of being an outsider in a new place. Other times it was a holiday meal erasing the painful memories of lonely weeks spent at boarding school when Maude was just too busy to come and get him.

Then there was the new fear. The times his heart ached with fear for someone else's life or that he had somehow hurt them. The times he'd been terrified of letting them down only to have them turn around and reassure him that it didn't matter, he was still one of them.

Ezra knew it was these new memories that he wanted to cling to. Not just the feeling of finally belonging somewhere but the realization that he knew he belonged in this family, with these men. It struck with a clarity that startled him. It wasn't about what he felt anymore. His feelings were based on his own fears. He feared being rejected, he feared that they didn't trust him. But when he really looked at it, all of it, he knew. Team Seven was a family, a tangled mass of conflicting personalities that worked and played and fought and loved. No matter how he felt, it didn't change the fact, he belonged in this family and he knew it.

Ezra didn't understand at all how it worked, he just knew that at this moment in time, the knowledge was enough. As he drifted into the darkness again he was surprised, this time he wasn't afraid.

* * *

Chris entered Ezra's room cautiously, trying to prepare himself. It was always such a shock to see one of his men in the hospital. No matter what kind of condition they'd been in out in the field, it couldn't compare to the stark reality of a hospital bed. "Out there," as he called it, he could do something. Order the paramedics around, help administer first aid, take care of the crime scene, anything to avoid just standing, watching and waiting. Here in the small confines and subdued atmosphere of the hospital, he felt out of control and helpless.

Vin looked up from his spot at Ezra's side and met his gaze. "Looks worse than it is," he reminded gently.

"Always does." Chris knew he didn't have to whisper, they wanted Ezra to wake up after all,but he found his voice hushed anyway.

Vin half smiled.

Larabee let the door close behind him, again overly conscious about the noise. He didn't want to startle the southern awake. Easily,he slid into a chair beside the bed, opposite Vin.

"Did you get everyone home to go to sleep?" Vin asked.

Chris nodded. "Only after the Doc made it clear they'd only let two of us stay."

This brought a soft chuckle. "They'll be here first thing then."

"Yup." Chris watched Ezra for a moment. Focusing first on his chest as it rose and fell, reassuring himself that his friend was breathing fine. Then his eyes skimmed up past the bound shoulder to the bruised face. In the dimly lit room,Chris wasn't sure if it was the bruising or the complete stillness of Ezra's face that was most disconcerting. "He come around at all?" he asked, looking at Vin again who was already shaking his head.

"No. He stirred a bit though, like he was having a bad dream or something. Then all of the sudden like calmed right down, been still since."

Chris listened, wondering what kind of demons Ezra was wrestling with and hoping that the stillness meant he had been the victor, "It'll be okay, Ezra." he whispered, timidly touching his friend's hand for a moment. He squeezed lightly then let go and sat back in his chair. "You're not alone here." He continued. "We've come way too far to let you go now. Whenever you're ready to, you come back."

TBC...


	6. Chapter 6

_On a prayer__  
__In a song__  
__I hear your voice and it keeps me hanging on__  
__Ahhh raining down against the wind__  
__I'm reaching out 'til __we reach the circle's end__  
__When you come back to me again__  
__(When you come back to me again)_

* * *

Something wasn't right. Hushed voices created an atmosphere of tension, waiting and anxiety. For a brief moment, Ezra feared that McDowell and 'Junior' had returned to extract more revenge, but then he recognized the soft murmuring.

Josiah.

Inwardly, Ezra sighed. He was safe. They had found him and,though he was just beginning to become aware enough to feel the medicinally numbed pain again, he somehow couldn't command his eyes to open. So he listened. Not able to hear all of Josiah's whispered words, he was reassured enough to know the big man was right beside him. Ezra pictured Josiah, head slightly bowed, praying to whatever deity it was the man prayed to, and the image comforted him. He strained to hear more, starved in the brief span of thirty-six hours for contact with his friends. Beyond Josiah, he heard the quiet shuffling that assured him that someone else was there as well.

Someone spoke and, though Ezra couldn't make out what had been said, he sensed the underlying worry in the voice. He felt a flash of guilt. They were worried about him, but he was fine now, he just needed to let them know that. Wanting to reassure them, he struggled to open his eyes but failed miserably as his weariness pulled him back away from the voices, but not their comforting presence.

Nathan shifted tiredly in the uncomfortable chair and hummed softly to himself as he flipped through a year old issue of Prevention magazine he'd found in the waiting room. "Damn song," he muttered shaking his head.

"You okay there, Nathan?" Josiah looked at him curiously.

"Yeah, just got that stupid Desperado song stuck in my head." Nathan explained lightly.

Sanchez grinned but didn't comment.

"Has he responded to you at all?" Nathan turned his attention to the bed and Ezra.

"Not yet," Josiah answered. Sighing heavily, he leaned back in his chair and glanced at his watch.

"Doctor's are getting worried." Nathan stood and slowly stretched. "Afraid if he doesn't wake up soon he'll slip into a coma on them."

"What do you think?" Josiah questioned.

Nathan flashed a sarcastic smile as he stepped closer to the bed and raised his volume a little. "I think he's one stubborn SOB who's just too lazy to drag his sorry butt out of bed."

Josiah chuckled. "Nice try, brother, but watch out, he might keep sleeping just to spite you."

Nathan shrugged. "Have to try something. Waiting is driving me crazy." He watched Ezra's steady breathing as a sullen quiet descended on the room, broken only by the steady beep of monitors and hum of lights.

Josiah rubbed a hand over his eyes and glanced at his watch again. "Chris and Vin will be back soon."

"JD and Buck too probably," Nathan agreed.

"I think maybe I'll stick around a little longer myself." Josiah watched Nathan for a response but his friend was staring at Ezra again.

"He was so mad at us, Josiah," Nathan said finally, his brown eyes searching for answers.

"I think," Josiah paused a moment, "that he was more hurt than angry."

"He thinks we don't trust him."

"We'll fix that," Josiah assured.

"How?" Nathan's voice rose with his frustration.

"It's not as hard as it sounds, Nathan. Like I told JD the other night, deep down Ezra already knows that we need him as much as he needs us."

Nathan looked down and began absently picking at the edge of Ezra's blanket. "I-I know Ezra and I haven't had the smoothest relationship." Josiah didn't interrupt him, so he went on. "I mean, well, you know, we're almost as different as two men can get. I get on his case more than I should and he eggs me into it. God, he knows how to push my buttons. Why does he do that?"

Josiah smiled. "Probably cause he can."

Nathan shrugged. "Despite all that, I do respect him. I don't know if he knows it, Josiah, but I value his friendship." He met Josiah's patient gaze briefly then returned his focus to the blanket again, his voice lowering. "He's not the only one around here that struggles with trust."

Josiah couldn't suppress another knowing chuckle. "Maybe that's what makes us such a good team." At Jackson's confused look he went on. "Think about it, outside of the team itself, who do any of us truly rely on or trust in to be there when needed?"

Nathan shook his head. "I never really thought about it that way. We seem to have enough conflicts to distract me I guess."

"I believe that is all part of being brothers," Josiah commented softly.

It was a long moment before Nathan spoke again. "It won't be the same without him, Josiah. I want him back."

"Then trust him to know that," the older man whispered. "Trust him."

* * *

"You know, Ezra, this is getting old." Vin was talking to him. Softly, right by his ear it seemed. The sharpshooter's normally carefree voice sounded heavy and strained. "Your doctor's not very happy with you, but I doubt you really care about him, huh?"

A gentle shuffling. Ezra strained to open his eyes, but they still refused to cooperate. What was wrong with him? He tried to move his hand, but again his body ignored his mind's commands. He groaned as a sudden pain shot through him.

"Ezra?" Vin's voice was louder, hopeful. "Easy, Ezra, can you hear me?" Warm fingers wrapped around his hand, squeezing lightly. The darkness was pulling him back again. The pain settling into a constant ache. Steeling himself, he tried to tighten his hand to grip Vin's.

"That's it, Ezra. Come on, wake up."

He couldn't. He wanted to, but for some reason he didn't seem to have any real control over the matter.

"Ezra!" Vin's voice was demanding, but all Ezra could do was hope that Vin knew he was trying to hang on.

* * *

"Damn it. He heard me, I know he did." Vin pounded at the coffee machine angrily.

"I believe you, but you heard the doctor's latest report." Chris stood beside him already balancing three steaming cups of the dark brew. "His fever's up and he's not responding like they think he should be to the meds or stimuli."

"He responded to me, Chris, to me." Vin smacked his own chest then kicked the innocent machine, sloshing the latest cup of coffee before he reached in and picked it up. "And what do they do? Limit our visitation? That's shit."

"I know."

"One visitor at a time. Of all the..." Vin paused his rant to shove more coins into the vending machine, slumping beside it tiredly as he listened to the cup being set into place. "He was trying, Cowboy. I could sense it."

Chris nodded, not knowing how else to support Vin. He wanted to believe that Ezra was coming around,but the doctor's report had been discouraging. "Let's get this stuff back to the others before it gets cold," he said, finally finding his voice.

"Stuff is crap." Vin scowled.

"True, but it's caffeine," Chris reminded with a small grin.

Vin's mind was already back to Ezra. "JD in with him now?"

Chris nodded. "Yeah, he said he wanted to talk to him for awhile."

"Kid did good handling Nelson the way he did."

"I'd still like to know what he told the man," Chris commented.

"Yeah I'm a little curious about that myself," Vin agreed.

"Maybe one day we'll get him drunk enough to tell us."

Vin laughed lightly. "Shouldn't be too hard."

* * *

JD moved restlessly in the chair next to Ezra's bed. He was so tired of the hospital and Ezra lying there completely unresponsive. He'd been so excited when Vin had told them about Ezra squeezing his hand, but then the doctors had stepped in with their sour expressions and doomsday predictions.

"What do they know?" he asked out loud. "They don't know you, Ezra, or anything about you." Tentatively JD reached forward and wrapped his hand around Ezra's, being careful of the IV line and feeling foolish as he hoped for a response of some kind.

His voice lowered to a breathy whisper. "They don't know that you'd hate these sheets cause they're not silk." JD smiled weakly. "Or that you'd much rather sleep than have to deal with all this cold and rain." He glanced quickly at the window, hearing the rain as it continued to beat against the glass.

"Hell, they're going about you all wrong anyway. Everybody knows that telling you to do something usually results in you doing the opposite." He giggled lightly and self-consciously released Ezra's hand.

Slouching in the chair, he watched Ezra for a minute,concentrating only on his friend's expressionless face. "At least we know that," hecontinued. "We know you, Ezra; how you think, how you react, what makes you tick. Not that we'd ever admit that 'cause, Lord knows,you'd go and change just to throw us off." JD sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"Face it, Ez, you need us. We need you. It's what makes us a team. You need to come out of this quick cause we're going nuts here. You know the stupid doctor restricted our visitation? You should have heard Nathan going off on him. Chris, too. But the doc held his ground. From now on, it's one at a time until you wake up. So wake up, damn it."

JD paused and gently ran his hand over Ezra's again, then leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and burying his face in his hands. "Did I tell you I told off that IA agent yesterday?" he mumbled. He wasn't really paying attention to what he was saying anymore. He just followed his unexplainable need to let his friend know he was there.

Ezra felt the light touch on his hand, bringing his focus in on the soft words of JD. He didn't know how long the kid had been talking, but instinctively he knew it had been awhile. JD's voice sounded low and tired.

"So then I just leaned in and whispered..." The muffled words were harder to understand and Ezra frowned. Slowly he flexed his stiff fingers and let them skim along the soft cotton blanket, searching again for the comforting touch.

Buck eased into the private room with out making a sound. He listened to JD's mumbled rambling and shook his head. The kid was beat.

"JD," he said softly, trying not to startle the younger man.

Dunne sat back quickly, eyes wide and face blushing. "Buck! What are you doing in here? If the nurses catch us both in here..."

Buck raised one hand to cut him off and squeezed his shoulder with the other. "No one's around right now and if they bust us, then I'll take the heat."

JD relaxed slightly. "How long have you been in here?" he asked, not meeting Buck's gaze.

"Not long."

"Did you hear what I was saying?"

"Nope." Buck patted his best friend's shoulder. "Couldn't make heads or tails of all your mumbling." He grinned, then turned serious. "How's it going?" He stepped closer to the bed and looked at Ezra.

"Fine. Just talking." JD shrugged. "At least I am."

"No response, huh?" Buck's eyes clouded as he reached for Ezra's hand, needing to feel the warmth in the still fingers.

JD shook his head. "No."

Ezra felt the hand gently grasp his and tightened his grip as he recognized Buck's voice.

"Damn!" Buck jumped and leaned closer against the bed.

"What?" JD was on his feet.

"He squeezed my hand." Buck's voice was filled with disbelief. The grip on his hand was weak, but very real.

"Really? Ezra can you hear us?" JD asked anxiously.

"Come on Ezra, open those green eyes for us," Buck cajoled.

Ezra frowned and groaned softly as he blinked his eyes open. Pain assaulted him from every conceivable angle. His chest burned and his head throbbed in time with his shoulder. He blinked again, trying to clear his vision, but only one eye would focus clearly.

"JD, you better go get that fool they call his doctor, and let the guys know," Buck said, grinning as JD took off, all signs of exhaustion gone.

As the door closed, Buck turned back to Ezra, tightening the grip on his hand. "You sure as hell ain't sleeping beauty, but I could almost kiss you all the same." He chuckled at Ezra's horror, pleased to see his friend's expressive features animated again.

"P-please," Ezra rasped. "Not that."

Buck could hear him struggling to breathe as he spoke. "Just take it easy,okay? JD went for the doctor."

Ezra nodded then gasped as pain ricocheted through his head.

"Hey, don't go moving about now." Ezra felt Buck's hand on his forehead. "You got yourself used as a punching bag so everything's going to hurt right for a bit." Buck noticed Ezra's grip had tightened. He watched as the southerner tried to speak. "Relax,Ezra, don't worry about talking. We're not going anywhere." He tried to sound confident as the door burst open and medical personnel poured in. He gave Ezra's hand one last squeeze before he was torn away and forced from the room with rushed promises that someone would be out to update him as soon as possible.

* * *

The din had faded and the poking, prodding hands had finally left him alone. The bed was raised a little higher to help ease his breathing and since he'd woken up and been coherent the doctor had graciously informed him that they could increase his medication thus reducing the pain to a dull roar. Ezra felt groggy as he faded in and out of sleep.

One moment the doctor was explaining the cautions they were taking to prevent full blown pneumonia, the next he was alone. When he opened his eyes again, he didn't know how much time had passed, but Chris was there, sitting beside him, quietly watching.

Ezra glanced quickly around the room, noting that there was just the two of them and thankful that his eyes seemed to be working equally well again.

"We're still restricted to one visitor at a time," Chris explained. "Want some water?" He offered a plastic cup and straw.

"Please." With one arm strapped to his chest to secure his shoulder and the other encumbered by the IV line, Ezra let Chris hold the drink for him. "Thank you." He leaned back signaling he'd had enough.

"Welcome. How are you feeling?" Chris asked.

"Numb." Ezra offered a faint smile. His voice was soft but clear and strong.

"Yeah,well looking at you, I'd think numb was a good option about now."

A tiny nod was Ezra's only reply. Movement seemed to equal vertigo and he'd quickly decided to avoid that at all costs. "McDowell?" heasked, his eyes searching Chris' face.

"We got him." Chris could see the tension drain from his agent.

"Why?"

"What was that?" Chris leaned forward.

"Why...why me?" Ezra's eyes were beginning to drift closed again.

"Kind of a long story,Ezra," Chris admitted.

"Don't think I'm going anywhere soon."

"Maybe not,but you're also on the down side of awake," Chris pointed out. "You need rest."

"I'm fine."

"Uh huh." Chris ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. He could feel Ezra's watching him still and knew he wasn't going to win the battle of the wills. No one could win that battle when it came to Ezra. "There's a lot I need to explain, starting with Friday night at the saloon."

"No." Chris looked up and met Ezra's eyes; not sure of the emotion he was reading there. "You don't need to explain anything."

"Yes, I do, and I want to. Besides, it all relates in the end." Chris smiled at Ezra's confused look and continued. "Friday afternoon I got a letter from the bureau's IA office telling me they were opening an investigation on you." He watched amazed as the panic flickered across Ezra's face and then disappeared behind a mask of indifference. "The reason I didn't want you to take care of the money for the fundraiser was because I knew they were probably watching you. I was trying to protect you, not make you think I didn't trust you. Obviously I screwed that up, I should have explained."

"I should have let you." Chris was surprised at Ezra's simple admission. He looked at his agent again, their eyes meeting. There was no long explanation to come, no delving into past hurts and misgivings, just five words that summed up a deeper understanding. The schooled expression had fallen away and beneath it, where honesty reigned, Chris could see that Ezra understood. He was trusted; he belonged. Chris nodded sharply acknowledging everything that the statement represented and leaned back in his chair.

Ezra's exhaustion was clear now, but Larabee could see he was struggling stubbornly to stay awake for further information. After only a few minutes of silence Chris went on to explain the case. "As it turns out, the IA investigation and McDowell are tied together. You remember Agent Morse?"

Ezra let out a low groan as Chris went on to explain the connections between Morse, Palamon and Schoolcraft. Somewhere in Larabee's soft words he felt himself floating off again into a restful sleep.

* * *

Ezra turned his head into the soft rays of sunlight streaming through the semi-opened blinds. Any other day the morning light would have been an irritant, but today he found it comforting. He smiled, remembering the evening before. He had drifted off during Chris' explanation of the case but Larabee hadn't seemed offended at all. Later, the doctor had lifted his restrictions on visitation, threatening that if it got too rowdy or if visiting hours weren't strictly followed, he'd cut them off again. It had been overwhelming to see everyone again and slightly disconcerting, but it was what Ezra had needed,too. He wasn't ready yet to let all of his defenses down and he didn't know if he'd ever be ready to do that completely, but he did feel whole.

A light knock on his door jerked his attention away from the previous evenings lighthearted teasing and fun and brought him back to the present. The door opened to reveal a man that Ezra immediately pegged as the internal affairs agent Chris had referred to yesterday.

"Agent Standish? I'm Isaac Nelson." Nelson approached Ezra and stood a comfortable distance from his bedside.

"From Internal Affairs," Ezra added managing to keep the edge out of his voice.

Nelson nodded and glanced briefly around the room before letting his gaze fall on Ezra again. "I just wanted to come by this morning to update you about the case, and inform you that the investigation involving you had been closed." Nelson ran a hand over his face and sighed heavily, bearing testament to his weariness. "I'd like to offer my apologies." He started but stopped as Ezra waved his free arm dismissing the comment.

"I assume you were just doing your job," Standish said.

Nelson smiled. "Yeah, and trying pretty hard to take you down."

Ezra chuckled softly at the admission then let out a low hiss as his ribs protested the action.

Nelson waited until he had collected himself again before continuing. "Agent Morris has been taken into custody with the McDowells."

"Chris filled me in," Ezra told him.

"I just wanted to make sure you were up to date on everything. Someone will be in later today to take your statement about the McDowells."

"Thank you." Ezra waited sensing Nelson had more to say.

Nelson smiled faintly. "You have a good team backing you up, you know. They never doubted you."

"Yes." Ezra nodded knowingly. "That's something I'm well aware of."

In the distance, muffled voices could be heard approaching the room. "That sounds like them now." Nelson waved gestured towards the door. "I better be going. Take care of yourself,Agent Standish."

"Thank you, I will."

There was no more than a thirty second pause between the door closing behind Nelson and it's bursting open again with the controlled chaos of the arrival team seven.

"Hey Sleeping Beauty's awake!" Buck laughed at Ezra's sour expression.

"I do wish you would stop using that horrible nickname in reference to my person," Ezra drawled.

"And well on the way to his old self again, I see." Josiah laughed as JD set a bag on the food tray.

"We thought we'd drop by and bring you your usual from Starbucks before we went on to work," Vin explained nodding toward the bag as JD pulled the contents out of the bag.

"Look's like the doctor might let you out of here in a day or two if you follow his orders," Nathan commented skimming over Ezra's medical chart as Buck went on to pass out fast food breakfast sandwiches to the rest of the group.

"It's good to have you back, Ezra," Chris said as he settled quietly in the chair next to Ezra's bed.

"It's good to be back, Mr. Larabee." Ezra smiled as he inhaled the rich aroma of his morning coffee. "It's good to be back."


End file.
